


Meant To Be

by xpunkstylesx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:43:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5838472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpunkstylesx/pseuds/xpunkstylesx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>worldlwt's AU- Harry finds Louis bleeding on the steps of a church</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meant To Be

The sky had looked mad all day, swirling with dark clouds, water threatening to spill out of them at any moment, and the wind that blew past the New Yorkers that day was strong, almost pushing Harry back as he walked back to his apartment from his last class, which had unfortunately let out late.   
He glanced at his watch again, quickly calculating that he was 5 minutes late, which would mean he would miss the first 5 minutes of Big Bang Theory. Harry hated being late. Actually, Harry hated anything and everything that wasn’t planned, anything that threw his carefully constructed schedule off course. His life revolved around the pre-planned minutes, everything getting done at a certain time and within a certain time frame in order to never lag behind on life. And that included any TV time he spared himself, or god forbid, the occasional sexual encounter he managed to have.   
Frustrated, he ran a hand through his long curls and picked up his pace slightly, scrambling for short cuts in order to regain the time his stupid professor had made him loose. He hugged his soft tan jacket closer to his body, mentally cursing the lack of layers he had worn, once again fooled by the warmth of his small apartment.  
Suddenly, as if by a stroke of luck, he remembered a shortcut, spotting it up in the distance. He always avoided taking it, although he figured it would take out 7 minutes from his walk back, because it wasn’t the most, well, trusted part of the city. It was a dark kind of alley, small and slightly claustrophobic, and now that the sun had almost set, lit only by a dingy streetlamp that hadn’t been changed since the 60s. Harry eventually reached it, stopping in front before glancing at his watch, eyes widening when he realized he had lost yet another minute by getting lost in his train of thoughts. He shook off his worries, desperate to get his schedule back on track, and put his head down, striding in with as much confidence as he could gather.   
The alley was even worse on the inside than the outside. The wind didn’t blow in there, as it was shielded by two old buildings, but the streetlamp kept flickering, sometimes plunging the entire alley in darkness for seconds at a time. Harry could feel his hands shaking, fear and paranoia creeping into the back of his head the further he walked. He didn’t dare look up, sensing people standing on the sides watching him, but controlled his walk to just go forward, praying to get to the other side as quickly as possible.   
He tried ignoring the various sounds, the cat calls from prostitutes hiding in the corners, but there was one he couldn’t seem to shake. It kept growing, inciting Harry’s estranged curiosity, urging him to look up even though his conscience was telling him not to.   
He jerked his head up, trying to pinpoint the source of the strangled moans. He faltered in his step, looking away from the safety of the floor too quickly. He could hear someone chuckling darkly from the dark corner near him, but he ignored it, too invested in finding the growing groans.  
He squinted, looking from side to side until he saw the dirty white stairs, a crumpled form emitting the echoes of pain. Harry moved forward slowly, forgetting the dinginess of his surroundings and solely focusing on form.  
As he neared and took in the surroundings, he saw the small staircase leading to old wooden doors, a small sign above them announcing “Iglesia”. Before he could scrounge his brain for the translation he’d learned in high school, the tip of his boots hit the bottom step. He lost his balance, falling forward and bending at the hips, catching himself slightly above the stirring rag. He quickly pulled himself up, watching with curiosity as the moans commenced once more.  
The person on the steps was covered in an army green jacket, thin legs donning ripped skinny jeans and broken black vans coming out from under. The first human feature that appeared was a messy tuft of brown hair, dried blood and mud caking the once seemingly soft hair. Harry backed up a little, shocked that the sight of all the blood, but couldn’t tear his eyes away, something about the man in pain drawing him in. It was fair to say that at this point, he had completely forgotten all about his perfectly structured timeline, and all he was willing to do at this point was stay for the revelation.  
From under the mess of hair, a bright pair of blue eyes peeked out, bloodshot and ruined by purple circles. Harry now stood motionless, not even sure the poor guy could see anything with such swollen eyes.   
Finally, the jacket was pulled all the way down, and a thin frown appeared, smears of drying blood trailing behind the jacket. The two boys started at each other, trying to size up the situation, before the battered one on the stairs got bored, jerkily trying to curl up on the once white step.   
The shout that resounded as soon as he twisted was enough to wake the dead, and Harry felt the panic rising in his throat. He saw a stain of blood bloom on the boy’s grey shirt, growing like a tragically beautiful flower. Suddenly, his non-existent fight-or-flight system kicked in, and he grabbed the bleeding boy by the waist, ignoring the shouts of protest, and his feet directed him back home, to the safe little corner of the world he had created for himself.   
Although getting the keys turned out to be a struggle, and the questioning glances from passersby distressed Harry, he finally got the protester into the flat, settling him down in his small bathroom, giving short instructions, “Don’t move.”  
He ran out, reaching to the top of his cabinets to scrounge for his first aid kit, hands wandering left and right until they finally grasped its cold handle. He yanked it down, dashing back to the restroom, stopping short in surprise, seeing the boy in pain hadn’t moved an inch, but was instead inspecting the room, no sign of distaste or appreciation on his face.   
He inched forward until he was facing him, standing at a breath’s distance. Finally the boy looked at him, taking in his tall stature, and examined him, this time for real. He started from his now-dirty boots and moved up the ripped, long black skinny jeans, eventually settling his gaze at his chest, not bothering to look at the worried face.  
Harry placed the kit on the counter the boy was sitting on, trying to catch his gaze, before realizing his attempts were useless.   
He awkwardly stepped back a bit, sticking out his hand, “My name’s Harry. Harry Styles.”  
The boy on the sink seemed unamused, ignoring the outstretched hand, muttering, “Louis.”  
“W-Well Louis, do you mind if I fix you up a bit? I mean, your stomach seems to have stopped bleeding bu-”  
“Well, you went as far as dragging me in here so I assume not much I have to say will stop you from completing your good samaritan act.” He spat out, still ignoring Harry’s eyes.  
Harry took this as a ‘yes’ and opened the box, pulling out the rubbing alcohol, cotton pads, and bandages, lining them up neatly in order of use. Louis looked over, smirking when he saw the caution with which he handled the supplies, “Never used that box for much more than a scrape, huh?”  
“I did, I-” Harry paused, scrambling for a time he hadn’t simply used a band aid. Louis smirked, accepting victory in silence. He then tugged at his grey t-shirt, carefully pulling it from his skin where the blood had glued them together, and removing it, revealing the damaged skin underneath.  
Harry gawked, not sure if he should comment on the ridiculous muscle, the large number of tattoos, or the terrible bruises that had developed. He opted for none, mechanically grabbing a towel and running it under cold water. He then moved towards Louis, lightly pressing the cold washcloth to his cut. Louis hissed, the chill of the cloth too sudden and surprising to him.   
“Sorry,” Harry whispered, slowly moving it to clean the wound and the skin around it, dry blood flaking off. He quickly finished up, dropping the towel before moving towards the medical supplies.   
He grabbed the cleansing liquid, placing it on a clean cloth, and moving towards Louis again, hesitantly moved towards the bruise.  
“S’okay,” Louis whispered, knuckles grasping the sink turning white, “I can take it.”  
Harry nodded, pressing the cloth to broken skin. Louis’ stomach clenched up, his several abs coming fully into view. Harry gasped, feeling his mind wander into a dirty, dark direction. He shook his head, trying to focus on the real problem at hand. Louis was letting out a quiet string of curses, the occasional grunt making its way into it.   
When Harry pulled the cloth off, Louis’ body relaxed and slightly slumped, his breathing going back to normal. Harry finally caught his eye, seeing some kind of relief and thanks in the stormy blue of his irises. Yet as soon as he caught it he lost it, left off wondering whether the storm brewing within them would ever calm.  
As he was applying the large bandage, the silence began to weigh on them, as if they were both realizing they knew nothing about each other. Harry coughed, trying to shatter the weight unsuccessfully. He tried to put his mind and soul into his simple task, but kept getting distracted as the air grew heavy with the weight of unsaid words.  
“So,” Harry began, glad to finally breathe again, “what happened?”  
“Thought you’d never ask.” Louis said, neither seeming willing to tell the truth or ready to build a lie, but with a certain carelessness that piqued Harry’s interest.   
“Well?” Harry looked up at him, curiosity getting the better half of him, only to see Louis staring at the ceiling, a smirk hitting his lips, “Is it a secret?”  
At this, Louis looked down, the smirk deepening, “It is. And you know how it is. If I tell you, I’d have to kill you.”  
Something in those words and the glassy eyes made Harry shiver, fully believing that he could make that happen. Finally, he finished his task and moved away, going to throw out all the excess wrappers in order to start patching up his face, the small cuts and blooming bruises screaming for attention.   
Louis watched Harry with some interest, the ghost of a smile on his lips as Harry tried to figure out what to use and where.  
“You have to use the smaller gauze pads,” Louis commented, directing Harry’s shaking fingers to the smaller ones, “And if you want to do a proper job you have to wash the dried blood off first.”  
Harry nodded, keeping his head bowed as he reached for a clean towel, getting it wet and dabbing around the cuts softly. Harry concentrated on trying to still his tremors, but Louis kept his gaze fixed on him, forcing the question past his thin lips, “Why are you doing this?”  
Harry paused, searching for an answer, as though he really hadn’t thought about helping- he had just done it.  
“I’m not too sure, I guess, maybe, because you seemed like you were in a lot of pain and there was no one coming to help you.” Harry finally released, voice unsteady as though questioning himself.   
“Oh come on, you can drop the act,” Louis suddenly spat out, pushing Harry slightly away in order to look him in the eye, “No one stops and helps gang bangers on the side of an alley just because. Why. Did. You. Do. It.”  
Harry looked shocked, not having expected such roughness, but could find no better answer, “I told you, I just did,” his rage rising, “Not everyone in this small world is such an asshole as you would think.”  
Louis cocked his eyebrows, smiling at the profanity that finally crossed that meticulous kid’s mouth, and nodded, putting his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay, I believe you.”  
After that, Harry finished up quickly, suddenly wanting to get rid of the small, broken man. He cleaned up hastily, knowing he would come back to it later, while Louis got up, stretching out and examining himself in the mirror, ghosting his fingers over his cuts.   
Without saying a word, Harry led Louis to the front door, opening it up for him, suddenly hating to watch him go.  
“So, erm, feel better.” Harry muttered, stopping Louis mid step over the confines of his small house.   
Louis turned slowly, a small smile finally painting his lips, “Thank you,” he whispered, “You didn’t have to do that, thank you.”  
Harry smiled nervously, nodding slowly, letting Louis turn slowly again and walk away. Yet there were words bubbling at the base of his throat, and they burst out, too strong to just slip away.   
“I wish we hadn’t met like this,” Harry shouted to Louis’ retreating figure. He turned around, a puzzled look on his small face, his eyes glinting with questions Harry quickly answered, “We could’ve worked, you know? Bump in the street, go for a coffee.”  
And suddenly Harry was walking out into the street, house door wide open, “We could’ve introduced ourselves with all our clothes on, without the air feeling heavy as we tried to move around. We could’ve had a chance.”  
They were standing across the street, so close to that dingy alley they had met in earlier before, almost chest to chest.   
“But we don’t,” Louis breathed, “We didn’t bump on into each other on the street and you know my name because you were fixing a stab wound. The universe was never meant to handle a couple like this, so we can’t ever happen.”  
“But-”  
“I’m in a gang- I sell drugs that end people’s lives, I kill to survive and these dark alleys you’re so scared of are my home. You’re a college student with a perfect schedule and not a hair out of place. We met for a reason and maybe that reason is to remind us we can’t always have what we want.”  
Harry shook his head, refusing to accept such a simple explanation, and moved his long fingers to Louis cheeks, cupping his face and moving in, pressing their lips together.   
Louis pulled away a moment too soon, feeling himself falling into an abyss too dark to see the bottom of. He smiled, returning Harry’s hands where they belonged, and turned away, heart breaking as he walked away from the only thing he ever had the potential to love.


End file.
